Not Your Average Damsel in Distress
by Oxymoronic Alliteration
Summary: What if" story that examines what may have happened if Paula had not been on T.A.D. with Gibbs' team in "Mind Games" with obvious spoilers for said episode.
1. Chapter 1

"Where the hell did you go, McGee?" Tony grumbled. He swatted at a mosquito that had landed on his neck and cursed the young agent's name. He'd just finished taking pictures of the "fresh" body they'd found down in Boone's dumping ground and the afternoon sun had been none too forgiving. With sweat, grime, and bits of squashed mosquitoes sticking to his skin, Tony was in no mood to have to find his young partner.

He pulled out his phone to call Tim's. "Probie, you have five minutes to find your way back here before both Gibbs and I tear you a new one!" he barked when he was once again sent to voicemail.

Tim had been sent back to call Gibbs and let him know that the dumping ground had been found while Tony processed the scene. When he hadn't returned after nearly fifteen minutes, Tony had felt a mixture of anger, frustration and, though he hated to admit it, fear. The bodies weren't going anywhere and he doubted that anyone would venture upon it, so he'd decided to see what was keeping Tim. All phone calls had been sent straight to voicemail and he was nearing the end of his rope.

"Dammit, McGee! Get your ass back here now!" he bellowed the fifth time he got Tim's voicemail. "I do not want to spend all day in this middle-of-nowhere dumping ground with a decaying body just because you can't…" Tony trailed off as something stuck beneath the windshield wiper of the van caught his eye.

He clicked the phone off and grabbed the small white square. On the reverse side was a picture of an unconscious Tim lying in the trunk of a car with his hands bound behind his back and duct tape stuck across his mouth. Even more unsettling was the small patch of blood that stained the skin and hair surrounding Tim's temple. "Dammit, McGee!" he repeated in a whisper, this time not in anger, but in fear for the young agent's life.

Tony pulled out his gun, prepared if anyone should try to sneak up on him, and he called Gibbs. "We've got a problem, boss…"

* * *

**AN:** I was just thinking about what might have happened if Paula hadn't been on T.A.D with Gibbs' team during "Mind Games." Obviously, Boone and his lawyer had been planning this for a while so the death of Kate probably put a damper on their plans (since women were always the targets in their murders).

This story is already complete (and fairly short), so I'll post one chapter per day!


	2. Chapter 2

As Tim slowly came back to consciousness, he was aware that the ground was moving beneath him. It couldn't be the ground, though. For one thing, he could feel that there was some kind of carpeted fabric beneath him and last he remembered the ground didn't usually come with carpet. It also didn't move so that he felt like a package being transported. Wherever he was, it was hot and humid. The heat hung around his nose, nearly suffocating him. He could feel a trickle of sweat sliding across his skin…but it wasn't just sweat; there was something sticky mixed in with the sweat.

Tim tried to brush his hand across his forehead, but he couldn't move it from behind his back. He came to the realization that his wrists had been tied together. The bindings cut into his skin and he had to wiggle his fingers to keep the blood flowing. They were beginning to tingle, like miniature pins sticking into his skin.

He tentatively opened his eyes and found that he was shrouded in darkness. The only light came through a small slit, though it didn't give him enough light to tell where he was. It was time to think logically about this.

He was bound and gagged, so he had obviously been taken hostage by someone. Based on the movement he felt beneath his body along with how cramped his large frame felt from his inability to stretch his body out, Tim surmised that he was in the trunk of a car. But why?

He thought back to arriving at Boone's dumping ground. He and Tony had gone down there, with Tony making some crack about Tim's last encounter with poison ivy. The two had expected to find the skeletal remains of Boone's victims. What they hadn't expected was the week old body of a young woman who had been slain in the same manner that Boone's victims had years earlier. Tim shuddered as he thought about the maggot-infested corpse. Her naked body was stained with blood and dirt, the former likely from the heart that had been etched into her back and the pool of blood that had spewed from her mouth when her tongue had been cut out. There was no doubt that she had suffered before her death.

Their phones had no reception in the area, so Tim had been sent back to the van to call Gibbs. He'd managed to get there well-enough and he remembered that he'd gotten in touch with Gibbs, letting the boss know that a copy cat killer was on the loose. After that, he'd started back toward the dumping ground. Tim had paused, wanting to ready himself for the sight of the tortured woman. It had been then that he'd heard a twig snap. Gun in hand, Tim swung around and had been met with a blow to his head. He hadn't seen the assailant before blacking out.

The car hit a bump and Tim's body bounced in the trunk, causing his head to smack against the top. As he slammed back on to the floor of the trunk, a soft groan resonated in the back of his throat. He head was already throbbing from his kidnapper's blow and things only were getting worse.

* * *

Tony sat at his desk, head in his hands. His fingers gripped at tufts of hair and it was only sheer willpower that kept him from yanking his hair out in frustration. If he'd gone up there instead of Tim...if he'd gone to investigate when Tim hadn't come back within a few minutes…if only…if only Gibbs had never been forced to cooperate with this entire stupid thing.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs entered the squad room, his eyes brimming with rage. Tony knew that Gibbs' ire wasn't directed at him, but Tony still flinched under them.

"It's my fault, boss," he mumbled. "I should have gone to call you."

"And then what Tony? You be the one in the trunk of a car."

"Better me than him."

Tony barely flinched as Gibbs' hand smacked against his head. "If you really want to find McGee then stop fretting over what you could have done then and focus on what you can do now."

"Gibbs!" Abby ran off the elevator waving the memory card from Tony's camera. "There's something hinky going on with all of this."

"You mean other than McGee being kidnapped?"

Abby winced at the reminder that Tim was being held hostage. "Yes, Tony, I mean other than that," she whispered as she inserted the memory card and brought the pictures up on the plasma. "This latest victim is the last one of the Jane Does in Boone's scrapbook," she explained as she brought up the picture of the body Tony and Tim had found and a picture of the same girl that had been in Boone's scrapbook.

"That's impossible, Abbs. That scrapbook has been in the chimney of Boone's old house since he went to prison." Tony knew his argument was feeble. The proof was right up there on the plasma.

"Possible or not, Tony, it's true."

"This isn't just a copy cat killer," Gibbs snarled. "That bastard's been training someone to take his place!"

Tony groaned. "Boss, I should have recognized her when we were there."

"You are not responsible for remembering every Jane Doe we come across, Tony, particularly when she's in what we thought was a ten-year-old scrapbook," Gibbs lectured. "Now run through the visitors list for Boone since he's been in jail. See who has been visiting him frequently."

"On it, boss."

Gibbs turned to leave, but Abby stood before him, her mouth set in determination. "What can I do?"

"Abby, all you can do right now is work on identifying those other Jane Does."

"No," she replied, shaking her head furiously. "I need to do something to help Timmy."

Gibbs saw that she was on the verge of tears. He pulled her into an embrace, his hand on the back of her head. "Don't worry, Abbs. We're going to find him." Even if I have to break every bone in Boone's body.


	3. Chapter 3

When Gibbs slammed the door to the Interrogation Room open, Boone was sitting facing the observation room with the back of his chair against the table. He caught sight of Gibbs' reflection in the glass and smiled.

"Is someone missing from your team?" he asked. When Gibbs didn't answer, he added, "I suppose this will make you rethink putting off the investigation into my copy cat killer."

"You will be strapped into that chair on Saturday regardless of how this investigation turns out."

If Boone heard Gibbs' comment, he didn't show it. Instead, he continued on in the conversation. "I have to tell you, the death of Agent Todd put a damper on things. But then I thought it may have been a blessing in disguise. After all, how many serial killers can say that they were feared by men as well as women?"

Gibbs' face began to turn red, but he didn't say anything. He continued to stare into the glass at Boone's smug and sadistic grin.

"So tell me, Jethro, which one was it? That young one?" Gibbs didn't reply, but the anger that flashed through his eyes was enough affirmation. "Yes, Agent…McGee, I think it was? Looks like a softie…young, naive, vulnerable. If you can't get a woman, I suppose he'd be the next best thing. How long do you suppose he'll be able to hold out?"

That, for Gibbs, was the last straw. "If you think for a moment that whatever sicko you've recruited to do your dirty work is going do anything to _any_ of my people, you obviously don't know my team very well."

He stormed to the door and threw it open, not even noticing when it hit the wall with a harsh thud. "When you've got sparks flying out your ass, I want you to think of me."

* * *

The ropes bit into his skin as he struggled to loosen his bindings. The warm, sticky liquid that dribbled down along his hand let him know that his wrists had begun to bleed. At least the pain made him forget about the throbbing in his head.

The car began slowing down, come to a crawl. Even in the trunk, a strong smell of hay filled Tim's nostrils and he sent up a silent prayer of thanks that he wasn't allergic to hay. If his nose were to stuff up due to an allergic reaction, he'd likely end up suffocating. That was assuming, of course, that his captor left him gagged in the trunk. Strangely, that seemed more appeasing to Tim than having to face the captor.

The car finally came to a complete stop and Tim felt his body roll back and forth gently. His hands blindly grappled about the floor of the trunk in hope that they would find a tire iron or a crowbar or anything that could possibly be used as a weapon. All they felt was the itchy carpet he'd been lying on during the ride.

Tim froze in his place. The car door was opening. The sound seemed to drag on for eternity, soon replaced by a harsh slamming that shook the entire vehicle. The sound of approaching footsteps sent Tim into a mini-panic attack. He winced with each heel click that echoed around him and had soon clenched his shut, as though that would somehow make the sound disappear.

_Stop that_, he scolded himself. _You're a federal agent, not a five-year-old_. He couldn't – he _wouldn't_ – let this person see that he was frightened.

Above him, a hand rested against the trunk lid. The fingers tapped against it while another hand gently ran along the finish, almost as though the person were caressing it. Whoever was holding Tim hostage was taking great joy in making him wait, making him wonder what was in store for him. Tim could hear a small chuckle from the person and he gulped. This, he knew, was someone who looked forward to Tim's pain.

When the key clicked into the trunk lock, Tim winced once again, not even caring to admonish himself. His captor couldn't see him at that moment, so it didn't matter if he winced. Gently, the key was turned and, with a small popping sound, the lid rose, allowing light to pool into the dark cage. Tim had to turn away from the light to allow his eyes to adjust. When he looked back, the sadistic smile that greeted him was enough to make him want to heave.

* * *

"Boss! I was looking at Boone's visitors' log. One named popped out more than any other." Tony brought a picture up on to the plasma and Gibbs immediately recognized him as the man who had been introduced as Boone's biographer.

"His name is John Briggs."

"He's writing Boone's biography," Gibbs informed him. His grip tightened around his coffee cup and the paper cup crumpled.

"He's living it," Tony said dryly. "In the past three years, Briggs has called Boone two-hundred and twenty-nine times and he's logged ninety-six visits."

"And in that time, Boone has been grooming his protégé to take his place."

Abby popped up from behind Tim's desk. "Gibbs, Briggs' phone has a GPS locator imbedded in it. I just got a fix on him."

"DiNozzo!"

Tony tossed the keys to Gibbs. "Way ahead of you, boss!"

"Abby, I want you to give us his location."

She nodded grimly. "Gibbs…"

"Abby, I promise you we'd bring him back and we will. Now get to it!"


	4. Chapter 4

"Abbs! Are we close to him?"

Abby looked at the blinking symbols on the computer screen. "You're coming up on him right now. He should be to the left."

"I see him." There was a loud squealing of tires, followed by a crash.

Gibbs and Tony stepped out of the car, weapons drawn. Tony pointed his at Briggs while Gibbs went around back to the trunk.

"Open the trunk!" Tony ordered.

"Hey!" Briggs called out, his hands up. "What the hell are you guys doing?"

Tony, not feeling the need to explain, opened the door and pulled Briggs out. He ordered the man to place his hands on the car, while he reached in and popped the trunk.

"I know my rights, man!"

"Yeah, well, kidnapping a federal agent isn't one of them."

"Kidnapping? I didn't kidnap anyone!"

At the back of the car, Gibbs furiously slammed the trunk down. "McGee isn't in here."

"Doesn't mean Briggs didn't do it."

"Look, I have no idea what you're talking about!" Briggs insisted, hands still on the car. "I don't even know who McGee is!"

Gibbs grabbed the man by the shoulder and flung him around. "If you had anything – and I do mean _anything_ – to do with my agent's disappearance, tell me now and _maybe_ I'll go easy on you."

"I'm telling you, I don't know what you're talking about! I've been in a meeting with my publisher for the past two hours. I can give you his number if you don't believe me!"

"Boss, if McGee isn't here…who else…?"

"Hey," Gibbs asked Briggs. "You're writing his biography. Who is Boone close to?"

Briggs chuckled. "Boone doesn't have the capacity to really be close to _anyone_."

"This is not a joke!" Gibbs snarled. "Who does he talk to? Who has visited him a lot in prison?"

"Just me. Well, and his lawyer, of course."

Above Briggs' head, Tony and Gibbs shared a look.

* * *

"Hello," the man drawled as he looked down at Tim. His hands were quick to grab the young man's shoulders and ungracefully hoist him out of the trunk, dropping him to the ground. He ripped the tape from Tim's mouth. "I hope your head doesn't hurt too much."

"W-what did you do?"

"Just a little bump with a shovel." He ran his hand gently over Tim's head, causing him discomfort in many ways. "If it _does_ still hurt…well, I'm sure you won't be feeling that pain much longer."

Tim was about to ask the man what he meant, but his eyes caught sight of something glinting in the sunlight. There, on a small wooden table, was an array of tools that looked as though they had been designed specifically for causing horrible pain. In fact, they probably _had_.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" the man asked, following his captive's gaze.

"That…that's not quite how I would describe them."

The man chortled as he grabbed Tim by the ankles and dragged him to the center of the barn. "I meant that it's quite beautiful what they can do."

"And what is that?" Tim asked, a slight quiver in his voice.

His captor just smiled that sickening smile. "You will soon know first-hand."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"What…why are you doing this? Why did you abduct me? Why…why did you kill that other girl?"

"I can't really take credit for the overall plan. That was Boone's doing."

"Boone?" Tim echoed. "You know him?"

The man snickered, leaning down to Tim. "I defended him in court, Agent McGee."

"You're…you're his lawyer?" Tim knew that Boone's lawyer had been very involved with the case, even going so far as to try and talk Gibbs into helping Boone to get his sentence decreased. The man had been at NCIS headquarters earlier that day, angry about Boone being transferred without his being told. Tim had only gotten a quick look at him. The man had a very forgettable face, the kind that blends in with a crowd. Now, though, Tim knew he would never forget that face. That was, of course, assuming he survived this.

"So you and Boone…you've been planning this."

"Wonderful detective work!" The man – O'Neill? Was that his name? – grabbed a small knife from the table and turned to face Tim.

"He talked you into this?"

O'Neill knelt down, holding the instrument close to Tim's face. "Agent McGee, do you really think I just happened to be assigned his case?" The knife was pressed against his cheek, stroking the skin tenderly. "No. I wanted the case. I wanted to be taught. Boone was very obliging."

"And what do you hope to accomplish?" Tim asked, trying not to notice the feeling of the knife against his cheek. At one point, the tip of it strayed a bit too close to his eye. He turned his face, nicking it slightly against the blade. He grimaced, but made no sound.

"Think about it. Boone, the renowned serial killer, is on death row. Then, a copy cat killer arises; a killer who seems to know Boone's process inside and out. Suddenly, Boone is irreplaceable. He's the only one who can help them catch me."

Realization dawned on Tim. "His execution will be postponed."

"Precisely."

"And I'm just a part of the plan."

"Not just _a _part, Agent McGee; you are _the_ part."

O'Neill set about unbuttoning Tim's shirt. "Sadly, the death of your female co-worker forced us to change a few things. I was reluctant to try this on a man. It's just so different when you're slicing through a woman's flesh, hearing her scream for mercy, than it is for a man. There's just something pure about a woman's body." He pushed open the shirt, revealing Tim's bare torso, which O'Neill regarded with delight. "Though, I suppose you've got a sort of purity about you," he said, pressing the blade against Tim's upper chest.

"Anyway, Boone was insistent. He couldn't just have me nabbing any agent; it had to be one of Gibbs' agents. That did slim down the choices, but in the end, I think it has worked out just as well."

Tim was assessing his options. His hands were still bound and it didn't seem as though they would be free any time soon. His captor had a multitude of weapons and had been told specifically to torture him. He could attempt to get up and away, but Tim knew he wouldn't get very far. Right now, his best bet was to keep O'Neill talking until the team could figure out where he was. "So how is this going to work?"

"You mean with you and me? I can assure you, it will be painful."

"I mean this plan that you and Boone have put together. They aren't going to hold off his execution forever. They're going to want results from him. If they do catch you, you'll probably end up on death row, same as Boone. If they don't catch you, they'll figure Boone's help isn't as imperious as they thought. Either way, Boone is going to be put to death and it seems that you've allowed him to put you there as well."

His plan seemed to work. O'Neill removed the sharp object from Tim's body, thoroughly amused by the young agent's theory. "You're a very naïve agent, aren't you? Boone can have those cops running in circles, trying to find the copy cat killer. He can make them think he's helping them in catching me, but each time they'll find they are still one step behind me. At that rate, it'll be at least three years before they try to have Boone executed again. By then, maybe we'll find ourselves another copy cat."

"A nice little family of serial killers," Tim commented.

"Yes…with Kyle Boone as our patriarch."

O'Neill resumed his position, now with the knife low near Tim's stomach. "Now, I think we need to get to business. Boone wants this to last as long as I can make it; and trust me, after learning from Boone, I know how to best drag out the pain and anguish before death will finally take over."

He sliced the knife across the skin. This time, Tim emitted a squeal of pain. He managed to kick a leg up, knocking the knife from O'Neill's hand. The heel of his shoe smacked against the man's nose, stunning him momentarily. In that short window of time, Tim pushed himself away and managed to pull himself to a sitting position.

"Very feisty." O'Neill didn't even try to grab the knife. Instead, he plucked a new instrument from the table. This one was circular with serrated edges, almost like a miniature buzz saw. "Just think: you'll be the first man to undergo the Kyle Boone ritual."

"Not an honor that I want," Tim said.

He tried to push himself to a standing position, but couldn't get his footing before O'Neill tackled him, dragging the sharp edges against Tim's arm. It left a deep cut, but Tim couldn't focus on that just yet. He brought his knee up and slammed it into O'Neill's groin. The man groaned and recoiled, giving Tim a chance to push him off and get his footing.

"You're only prolonging the inevitable," O'Neill warned as he too stood up. "You'd never be able to outrun me."

Tim could see that his time was running out. Soon, O'Neill would give him enough wounds that he'd be unable to do anything but lie there and accept it. His hands were still tied, so he wouldn't be able to get very far if he made a run for it. He had confidence that his team would figure out what had happened, but he wasn't sure if they'd be able to find him in time.

He glanced at his surroundings. If he could knock O'Neill down, he may be rendered unconscious. At the very least, he'd probably be hurt, and that was better than nothing. Tim was running out of options; he had to make a choice, and quickly.

He bent his body at the waist, readying himself. He knew it would be smartest to aim low, using his shoulders as the brunt of the force. When O'Neill stepped forward, Tim sprinted forward, ramming his body into the man's stomach. O'Neill let out a yelp of surprise and dropped the torture tool. His body fell back into the table and his head smacked against the wall, knocking him unconscious.

Tim, having made sure O'Neill was out, carefully sat down and blindly grabbed around behind him until his hands fell upon something sharp. He had only just cut the ropes when two figures appeared in the open doorway.

"McGee?" Tony asked.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm okay."

"O'Neill?"

"Unconscious," he said, pointing to the unmoving body.

Gibbs sent Tony over to handcuff O'Neill while he checked on Tim, who was still sitting. He squatted down beside the agent. "McGee, you're bleeding."

Tim looked down, having forgotten about his own wounds. "Oh…I am…" he commented softly. The pain had subsided moments earlier, but now, as he was looking at them once again, the pain hit him with full force. "Must have been from when he cut me…"

His head was growing woozy and he leaned against Gibbs when they stood. "I'm gonna go to sleep now, boss," he mumbled as darkness overtook him.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

"I wonder, Agent Gibbs," Boone sneered, "did he scream when the knife cut through his flesh?"

Tim winced, recalling that he _had_, in fact, screamed out. The thought that it could have been far worse, though, comforted him greatly.

Gibbs had Boon cornered against the glass inside the interrogation room. Tony and Tim watched on from within the observation room, the latter wearing NCIS sweats and bandages to keep his wounds from bleeding out. He hadn't lost much blood during the scuffle with O'Neill, but he had walked away with a couple of serious wounds.

Even more unsettling than experiencing O'Neill's attack was hearing Boone's description of what he thought was happening at that moment. There was no doubt he had trained his protégé well in the art of torture. Boone, under the glare of an enraged Gibbs, gloated about the techniques he had taught, describing the way O'Neill must be carving into Tim's back, cutting just enough to cause pain, but not enough to cause immediate death. He detailed the process of chopping off a person's tongue, how to keep their mouth open as you slice through the muscle. It was enough to make Tim want to heave.

Gibbs, of course, had gone through the motions of pulling a gun on Boone…pointing it at his head…pulling the trigger…and there was nothing.

"You…you were supposed to kill me!" Boone said incredulously, eyes wide. It was the first time any of them had seen him not be in complete control. "You were supposed to kill me!"

"And ruin my own life?" Gibbs asked, not even trying to keep the amusement out of his voice. "I don't think so."

Boone saw his plans unraveling before him. He'd had it planned…he'd had it _all_ planned. In a last minute ditch to push Gibbs' buttons, he cried out, "I wonder if your agent is cursing your name right now! He was counting on you to save him, wasn't he?" Boone yelled as he was escorted out of the room.

Gibbs paused in the hallway, turning around slowly to face the man. "He didn't need me to save him. He's perfectly capable of saving himself."

The door to the observation room opened and both Tony and Tim stepped out into the hallway. Boone looked at the young agent in complete shock.

"Unfortunately, Boone," Gibbs said, "I don't think your lawyer will be able to help you much anymore. It's hard to defend a serial killer when you're in a maximum security prison."

Boone screamed curses as he was dragged away. The trio of men watched in satisfaction, secure in knowing that the world had seen the last of Kyle Boone.

* * *

"That wasn't bad work, Probie."

"What wasn't?"

"You know…knocking the psycho lawyer out. Making your get away. All that stuff."

Tim smiled at the rare, genuine compliment. "Were you worried about me, Tony?"

"Yeah," the older agent said sincerely, causing Tim's smile to grow. Sensing that Tim recognized that he actually cared about his well-being, Tony quickly added, "I mean, you're so fragile. How can I resist a damsel in distress?" Tony gave the young agent a gentle smack on the head. "Besides, kid, I wasn't in the mood to break in a new Probie. They're so hard to housetrain."

Tim sat back, happy for many things. First, and foremost, he was happy to be both alive and in much less pain than he could have been. Mostly, though, he was happy – and proud – about Gibbs' comment to Boone:

_He didn't need me to save him. He's perfectly capable of saving himself._

* * *

**AN:** I actually went back and forth between Tim killing O'Neill and just knocking him out. In the end, I kind of figured Tim would be mroe concerned about just getting the guy away from him than actually killing him. Plus, I felt like if he killed him here, it would make his reaction to killing someone in the episode "Probie" seem a bit silly. Also, someone asked why Ziva isn't in this. This episode happened before Ziva became a part of the team (so it was right after Kate and right before Ziva) which is probably why they had Paula there, so as to have female blood on the team.

Thanks for reading!


End file.
